


When and How You Want Me

by chel (sultrystarsk)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:53:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrystarsk/pseuds/chel
Summary: Another series of drabbles and snippets, stuck together with the glue of S&H's love





	1. Sense of Smell

Starsky’s hand fondled under the pillow; he removed something furry.

"What's this?" he asked over his shoulder. "My red socks?"

"What can I say, Starsk? I have a thing for your feet."

"I noticed. How can you… they reek! Even I won't go near my socks on a Friday!"

Hutch traced a finger down Starsky’s back. "I like something that pongs even more, a whole lot better."

Starsky wiggled his butt back, grinding into Hutch's groin. "Oh yeah?" he asked, dripping expectation. "What's that, big boy?"

Hutch leapt from the bed, laughed maniacally, and strode to the stove. "Pepperoni pizza!"


	2. Morning Glory

Hutch wiped at the tear on his lover’s face with the back of his fingers, then placed his hand on the furred belly.  
“Tough day yesterday, huh?”

Starsky turned his head on the pillow. “Yeah.”

“Your mom was made of pure a-grade steel. I hope you make it to ninety three.”

Starsky snickered. “Careful what you wish for, partner.” 

He placed his hand over his lover’s, and pushed it further down, his eyes beseeching. “Make love to me?”

“While you’re thinking of your mother? No chance in hell, buddy!” Hutch rolled out of bed, wrapped his dressing gown around himself and slid into his slippers. As he padded out of their bedroom, he stopped at the doorway and turned.

“Breakfast in bed? I’m buying.”

“Sausages and eggs?”

“Sure. Juice with your cholesterol, sir?”

“What? No root beer? Man, and here I thought you loved me!” It was the start of their standard breakfast repartee.

Hutch blew Starsky a kiss, took two steps toward the kitchen and waited for the usual response.

Pffft. Yep, there it was.

Love in all its glory.


	3. Jeans for Genes

“You should read this, Starsk.”

“I’m busy, you read it. And you owe me a new can of gun oil.” Starsky’s return throw was better directed than his partner’s. 

Hutch pulled the newspaper from his chest, and read the headline, “Loosen Your Jeans to Save Your Genes.”

“It says here, ‘the modern trend of wearing tight jeans could damage your manhood’.”

Starsky unzipped his fly; wriggled in his seat. “Loosen like this? Damn, my hands are slippery from this spilled oil. All wet. Lubricated.”

Hutch stirred. “Wanna see if your ‘manhood’ is still in tact?”

“That’s a fine idea, Ollie.”


	4. Lemon Squash

Starsky opened the icebox door and unabashedly flapped his shirt, allowing the self-made cool breeze to drop the temperature on his bare chest by a few degrees.

“Man, what a day. You want a beer, Hutch?” He poked around the shelves. “Aw shit, I’m all out.” 

“When did that happen? You seeing someone behind my back, Starsk?”

“Yeah, that redhead in Booking. What’s his name again?”

“Alright, point taken. I’m just tired. Too tired to go out for beer, that’s for sure. What else do you have in there?”

Starsky removed a large pitcher of lemon drink, turned to face his partner and rubbed his face, chest, belly and then back up again, with the ice cold container. 

He took three large gulps, allowing the overflow to run from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his body.

“Thirsty?”

“Ah… what is that?”

“It’s my Aunt Zelda’s lemon squash. She makes it herself.”

“Um, no, thank you. What’s in it?”

Starsky took a lemon from the fruit bowl, and cut it precisely in halves. “Well, there are lemons, of course.” He took another swig from the pitcher, this time the spillage traveling as far as his navel.

“Of course.”

“And sugar.” Starsky dipped his finger into his own belly button, coated it, and raunchily sucked it clean of the sugary substance.

“That explains a lot.”

“Water.”

“Water?”

“Do you want a glass of water?”

“Yes!”

Starsky filled the glass and handed it to Hutch. He picked up half of the lemon, toying with it. “I hear,” he said intensely, “that if you suck on a lemon right after giving head, it tastes like a tequila shot, only without the tequila.”

“Give me that thing,” Hutch demanded, as he grabbed the lemon, pushed Starsky against the counter and unzipped his jeans.


	5. A Doctor's Observations

“Detective Starsky?” I introduced myself as the treating doctor to Ken Hutchinson’s partner. Police partner.

“I’m keeping Ken in for observation of abdominal bruising.”

“Sure. I’ll get some things. Just one night?”

“That’ll depend. Officer, I’m unsure about the nature of his assault, and this may or may not be relevant. He has bite marks on his buttocks.” Starsky’s eyelids fluttered, just a millisecond.

“Really. You never know what goes on behind closed doors, hey, doc?” He spun on his heels and disappeared into Hutchinson’s room.

As the door closed, I heard a whispered, “We gotta be more careful, partner.”


	6. Spring

Squeak.

Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Man, this thing needs oil.

Squeak.

Here.

Squeak.

Not me, dummy. Your bed.

Oh. It’s the springs, Starsk. They’ve seen a lot of use over the years.

Braggard. Get back on with it, willya?

Squeak, squeak.

Squeak, squeak.

It’s distracting.

Hold on to the frame. That might steady it.

Squeak, thud, squeak, thud.

Squeak.

My neighbors! I’ll have to move it.

Get back here. Now!

Squeak.

Squeak, squeak.

Squeak, thud, squeak, thud.

Faster.

Starsk, my neighbors…

Hutch! Faster!

Squeak, thud, squeak, thud.

Squthud, squthud, squthud, squthud.

Ohhhhhhhhhyyyyeesssssssssssssssss.

Staaaaaaaarrrrssssssssssk.

Squeak.

Squeak.

……….

Squeak.

……….

Knock, knock. 

“Kenneth?”


	7. U-turn

Get your hands offa me!

Starsk…

Will you…? I’m driving, here!

Alright, alright. Are you coming over tonight?

I got stuff I gotta do.

Can I come over?

(silence)

Starsk?

Okay. Just…

Don’t touch you. I get it. Pull in at Ming’s; I’ll shout us to takeout.

I’ll wait here.

Of course.

~~~~~~~~~

That was great, thank you.

Anytime, buddy. Let me take that; you put your feet up. Been a hell of a day, huh?

You could say that.

‘nother beer?

You trying to get me drunk?

Could be. Here. Your shoulders are all knotted up.

Mmmmm. Tell me. Why’d you kiss her?

Undercover; what was I supposed to do? Point to my jealous 175 pound lover and turn her down?

Kiss me like you kissed her.

Now? I’m upside down! Your earlobe is very salty.

Watching you two--undercover--I realised… I dunno… when we kiss it’s different to kissing a woman. More passionate.

When we kiss, it’s us. But yeah, we could try and be gentler. I’ll come around front.

Just don’t stop pinching my tits.

How’s this?

Sweet and tender. This?

Hmmm, it’s nice. Oh, and what do we have down here?

Zebra Three: We are responding.


	8. Firecrackers & Cherry Bombs

“Are you sure about this, Starsk?”

“Yeah. How hard can it be? Ever had a girlfriend go completely nude down there for you? Hmmmm. Nice.”

“Bikini wax isn’t made for this, though.”

“Lookit, you always did say I got a hairy ass; now’s your chance. Let’s just get it done, huh? No more stranglin’ Hutch Junior and no more tugging butt hairs.”

“Wiggle your toes.”

“What? Holy shit! You mother fucking gmhhhdd!”

“Ow! Starsky! You bit my hand!”

“Sorry.”

“You okay?”

“No. Waiting for the fireworks to subside.”

“Breathe through it. Then roll back over and turn the other cheek.”


	9. Roaming In The Gloaming

“When you’re done arguing, I’ll be back with dinner.” Starsky slammed the door, stormed down the path, climbed into the Cherokee, and headed for the beach.

He wandered in the gloaming, enjoying the pastel sunset as it moved through a rainbow of colors. Waves gently lapped at the shore; seagulls feasted on the day’s leftovers.

He kicked at pebbles and seaweed, collected shells to photograph, and pondered.

Thirty years together. Their anniversary, and his partner seemed to have forgotten.

He wondered if this was where they were at – the twilight of their shared life. The old married couple who no longer celebrated milestones; so secure as to take each other for granted.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let it be. They’d always argued. They’d always made up.

He collected their take-out and returned home.

Hutch had set the table: soft candlelight, music - a Marvin Gaye CD. Amazing what he could achieve in forty minutes when he put his mind to it.

It was amazing what they could achieve together, in an hour, when they put their bodies to it.

As the sun set over Bay City, two lovers prepared for an evening under the stars. Together. Just like always.


	10. Role Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the prompt "rape"; see if you can guess which episode I wrote it for.

I shoved him, face to the wall, arm behind his back. We play rough, sometimes. But… He turned his head; his eyes screamed fear. He’d broken into a cold sweat.

“Shit! Sorry.” I stumbled back a few feet, letting go.

He turned, slid down, not making eye contact.

“Are you…? I didn’t…” I knelt next to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

He offered his hand; I took it, rubbed it with my thumb. I leaned my wet cheek into his palm. “Forgive me?”

“Forgive you, forgive them. Forgive me. Not today, okay? Help me up. My feet are numb.”


End file.
